An Early Decision.
“I am not going to stay,” said Jack Melland; and whatever his faults might be, he looked and spoke like a man who knew his own mind, and would abide thereby.
His three companions stared at him in silence, and one of the three at least felt a distinct sinking of the heart.
“I was beginning to like him; we got on quite famously at dinner, and I thought we were going to have ever such a good time together. Now we shall be a wretched uncomfortable three, and Mr Druce will like Ruth best, and I shall be out in the cold. How horrid! How perfectly horrid!” grumbled Mollie to herself.
Just because she was so perturbed, however, she would not allow herself to speak, but put on an elaborate display of indifference, while Victor asked curiously—
“You mean that? May one ask your reason?”
“Oh, certainly. I never looked upon myself as having the slightest claim upon Mr Farrell, and I don’t care to ruin my business prospects for the sake of an off-chance. Besides, the whole position is unpleasant; I object to being kept ‘on approval,’ with the consciousness that if I allow myself to be ordinarily agreeable I shall at once be credited with sponging for the old man’s favour. I am quite satisfied with my own lot, without any outside assistance.”
“Don’t you care about money, then?” asked Ruth timidly.
Jack Melland threw back his head with an air of masterful complacency.
“I care about making money. That is to say, I love my work, and wish it to be successful, but I am keen on it more for the sake of the interest and occupation than for what it brings. A few hundreds a year supply all that I want, and I should not care to be burdened with a big fortune. If you come into this place, Miss Farrell, I shall be grateful to you if you will ask me down for a few days’ shooting in the autumn, but I shall never envy you your responsibility. To kick my heels here in idleness for three solid months, and know that the business was suffering for want of my presence—nothing would induce me to do it!”